


Tying the Knot

by aerye



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerye/pseuds/aerye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was calm, centered, and completely in control. Him and Fraser were getting married, and it was all going to be good, the best—happily ever after for the rest of their lives.</p><p>And then the day of the wedding arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tying the Knot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rose_malmaison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/gifts).



He didn't freak out when Fraser proposed (with all the pomp and circumstance and romance that he would've expected from the guy, going down on one knee and everything)—

(Although looking back that was when the distant bell (red flag, red light, DANGER DANGER DANGER) started ringing in his head.)

—or even when Fraser let it drop by accident at the station, and Huey and Dewey organized a "wedding shower" that resulted in collection of sex toys that made even Ray turn red and had Fraser reading the instructions out loud and asking questions for days, until Ray finally confiscated all of them (especially the vibrating butt plug) and hid them on the top shelf of his closet.

Nope. He stayed cool as a cucumber, even when Frannie took to sighing loudly (okay, _louder_ ) whenever Fraser came by the station. He didn't even twitch when he got the memo from human resources, detailing the health insurance options now available to same-sex married couples. 

He went along without complaint when Vecchio showed up at his office one day and dragged him over to his tailor, insisting that as best man he wasn't going to let _Benny_ marry anybody in a ten-year-old suit that probably hadn't fit properly when Ray bought it. And he stood there quietly and let a guy with a tape measure poke and prod him, and get way too intimate with his balls, while Vecchio considered and rejected seven different shades of grey and four different types of fabric until he informed Ray he would be wearing a single-breasted worsted wool in a gunmetal grey, and Vecchio would pick him up at noon that Saturday to buy new shoes.

When Frannie decided to get over her heartbreak and designated herself wedding planner, getting all hyper about cakes and sparking the Great Francesco Vecchio/Ma Vecchio Frosting Versus Fondant Debate of 2002, Ray wisely stayed on the sidelines and just nodded when asked if he liked chocolate. He did take Dief's side on the collar controversy, although he told him that now that him and Fraser would be living together twenty-four seven, Dief needed to work out his issues with the turtle on his own.

He didn't even break a sweat when he took care of the license.

He was calm, centered, and completely in control. Him and Fraser were getting married, and it was all going to be good, the best—happily ever after for the rest of their lives.

And then the day of the wedding arrived.

* * *

_Thump._

_Thump._

The small rubber ball bounced off the opposite wall and back into the palm of Ray's hand. He squeezed his fingers around it, hard, and then tossed it again.

_Thump._

"Kowalski." A knock at the door.

_Thump._

_Thump._

"Stanley."

Ray sighed. Great. Just— _greatness_. He caught the ball, squeezed his fingers around it again. He didn't move from where he was lying on the bed, staring at the wall. He noticed idly that it could've used a new coat of paint. Even before the scuffs he was leaving from the ball.

 _"Stanley."_ More insistent this time, the rap of Vecchio's knuckles sounding sharper against the door. "Hey, Stanley, open the damn door."

_Thump._

There was a water stain. Probably from the bathroom next door. Overflowing tub or something. He could hear whispering outside the door.

_Thump._

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know, Ma." Vecchio sounded real patient, actually, given the situation. "Maybe you noticed I'm still on the wrong side of the door?"

"Watch how you talk to your mother."

"Sorry, Ma."

_Thump._

"Is he sick? What's that noise?"

That was Frannie. She was looking good these days, even with the seven months pregnant thing going on.

He could hear Vecchio sigh. "I don't know that either. Look, why don't you two go back and keep Father Edwards company? Let me take care of this."

"I hope he isn't sick." Ma Vecchio again. "It's bad luck to get sick on your wedding day."

The water stain was sort of shaped like a flower. Or a mushroom cloud, he couldn't really decide.

_Thump._

"I think getting sick is pretty much a bad luck thing all around," Vecchio was saying, "but I get your point. I'm sure it's nothing. Just—open another bottle of wine and don't let Benny get too nervous, okay?"

More whispering, too low for him to hear. Feet scuffling on the hallway carpet. One of the Vecchio kids crying in the background. Then silence.

_Thump._

"Okay, Stanley—coast is clear. Open the damn door." The rap of knuckles again. "Kowalski, it's not like I don't have a key to my own damn door in my own damn house."

Ray sighed. Definitely a mushroom cloud. He rolled off the bed, flipped the lock on the door and went back to lay face down on the bed. He listened to Vecchio come in and lock the door again.

"So just to clear things up real quick, you're not sick right? No danger of imminent death here?"

"Fuck off," he breathed into the pillow. He squeezed his fingers around the ball.

"Oh, good—so you're healthy."

He could hear Vecchio shedding his suit jacket, putting it on a hanger— _jeezus, Vecchio, prissy much?_ —and then dragging over a chair. He could smell Vecchio's cologne as he got closer, something spicy and expensive. 

"So. You want to tell me what's prompting the Runaway Bride routine here? 'Cause I gotta be honest with you, Kowalski, you don't have the legs for it."

"None of your damn business." He squeezed the ball tighter. His fingers were numb.

"Well, see—" The chair creaked as Vecchio leaned back in it. "—this is my house you're filling up with guests, and the natives out there are getting a bit restless. So if you could see your way clear to get over whatever mid-life crisis you got going here and get your ass to the altar, I'd appreciate it." Vecchio kicked the edge of the bed. "C'mon, asshole, what gives?"

Ray rolled on his back and glared at him. "Fuck. Off." He tossed the ball at the wall again. Vecchio snatched it out of the air on the rebound.

"Yeah, like that's happening." Vecchio's eyes narrowed as he studied Ray, like he was thinking, trying to figure him out.

Ray hoped he didn't hurt himself.

"C'mon, Kowalski—I thought you were the last of the big tough guys. What's got your panties in such a twist?"

"Jesus." He rolled his eyes. His hand clenched and unclenched, missing the ball. "Vecchio, I thought even you knew the meaning of simple words like 'Fuck' and 'Off.' I can spell them for you if it'll help."

Vecchio shook his head. "I don't get it. I thought you wanted this."

Ray shrugged. "Things change."

"What things change? Benny? No way—that guy is like the rock of Gibraltar. The sun will stop rising in the east before that happens." Vecchio squinted at him. "So that brings us back to you; therefore, I repeat: what's got your panties in a twist?"

"None of your business. Can I have my ball back?"

Vecchio grinned. "That one's too easy—I'm gonna let it pass. And, no, you can't." His grin faded. "Look, I got all day, but Benny's starting to get nervous. Which means soon he'll be unhappy, which will result in me being unhappy, which I can guarantee you will result in you being unhappy."

Ray gave him the finger. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "I'm still trying to figure out when this became your business."

"Benny's my friend—that makes it my business."

"Yeah? Well, tell me this, Vecchio— you ever consider that maybe me marrying Fraser is not the best idea he ever had? I mean, I know he's a Mountie and all, and walks on water when nobody's looking I'm sure, but that don't mean every idea that comes into the guy's head is the best idea ever. Right?"

Vecchio shook his head. "I don't get it. Are you looking for an argument from me? Cause you ain't gonna get one. Do I think that of the list of people Benny should marry, you're pretty far down on the list? Yeah, matter of fact, I do. Do I think Benny would be better off without you, in the long run?" He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe he would. Thing is, that doesn't matter at this particular juncture, does it? The guy wants to marry you. He asked, all proper like—and do not ever remind me how many times I had to listen to his plans for _that_ —and you said yes. So put your hand down between your legs—I'm pretty sure you'll find a set of balls there—and do me a favor and get your ass off that bed and go marry Benny before you break his heart. I had to pick up the pieces once; I don't wanna have to do it again."

"What if I break it anyway?" Ray challenged him. Because that was it, wasn't it? That was the thing right there, that was the thing he couldn't get out of his head, that kept him hiding in this room and away from where Fraser could see him. He'd been down this road before, and all the love in the world hadn't been enough when the cracks started appearing. 

"Well, then I come kick your ass, Kowalski, no mistake about it. You hurt him and I'll be on your doorstep faster than you can say oops, and I promise you that'd be a gift, Stanley, not a problem." Vecchio took his arm and started dragging him up off the bed. "Now, c'mon, just get up and—wait—Jesus, what the hell did you do to that tie?"

Ray looked down. Okay, so it had gotten a bit—rumpled?

"I lend you my best tie and you—Christ, were you raised _by wolves_? Here." Vecchio pulled him to his feet and yanked the knot in the tie free, then started retying it deftly. "Two hundred dollars I paid for that tie and you—there." He smoothed it down again, and then adjusted the shoulders on Ray's suit, buttoning the first button of the jacket and peering around him to check the drape. He stepped back and looked Ray over critically, then shrugged. "Well, hell, only so much I can do. At least you're presentable." He set his chair back against the wall and went over to the door. "You got five minutes to finish pulling yourself together, you hear? Five minutes to get your ass out there, or I'm coming back and this time I'm letting Ma in. And believe me, neither of us wants that." He opened the door, then paused, looked back at Ray again. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sure." No. "Sure."

"Sure?"

"Sure." _No, no, no, no, no._

Vecchio narrowed his eyes again. "Why don't I believe you?"

Ray shrugged, layered a blank look over his face.

"Yeah, okay fine. I'll see you out there."

"Hey. Vecchio."

Vecchio stopped and sighed again. "Yes, _Stanley_ —now what?"

"Nothing. Just—y'know." He twitched awkwardly.

Vecchio looked at him silently, then shook his head and grinned. "Jerk." He pointed his finger. "Five goddamned minutes, Kowalski. Then I'm marrying the Mountie myself." He closed the door behind him.

Ray took a deep breath. He could do this.

He went over to the dresser and checked himself out in the mirror. Whatever polish Vecchio and Frannie had managed to layer on him that morning had rubbed off. His hair was standing up in all directions from rolling around on the bed, and he had a crease in one cheek from the pillow. It didn't take much to see the grey among all the blond, and he realized he probably should have shaved closer that morning, 'cause he could already see stubble, which wasn't anything new but he was getting married.

_Married. I do, I do, I do, I don't._

In fact, he realized, the only thing that looked good on him right now was the knot Vecchio had made in the tie. _Vecchio's_ tie.

There was another knock.

Christ. "Jesus, Vecchio, I'm com—"

The door opened and Fraser stuck his head inside. Ray stiffened. "I'm sorry, Ray. I don't mean to interrupt your—ruminations. It's—it's me." Ray followed the reflection in the mirror as he came into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and pausing a foot or two from where Ray stood.

Fraser cleared his throat nervously. "Ray said you were having trouble with your—your tie?"

"Yeah." Ray found he had to clear his throat as well. "Yeah, my tie. Well, his tie." That seemed important, somehow. "Vecchio, he, uh, helped me with—" Ray bit the inside of his cheek, then lifted his chin and met Fraser's eyes in the mirror, gathering his courage. "Fraser, you know me, right?"

"Five years, seven months, and, uh—" Fraser dragged a thumb across his eyebrow. "—eighteen hours and approximately two minutes."

"Yeah." Ray huffed out a nervous laugh. "Two minutes. You sure you don't know the number of seconds?"

"Thirty-six. I didn't want to appear too—pedantic."

"Whatever. Okay." Ray took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So you know that I have trouble sometimes with—" Love. Marriage. "With ties." He tugged awkwardly at the knot Vecchio had just fixed, undoing all his work.

Fraser cocked his head, confused. "You have trouble with—ties."

"Yeah, Fraser, y'know." He twitched. " _Ties._ I have, y'know, trouble with—" _Love. Marriage._ "— _ties_. Trouble with _ties_."

"Oh. _Ohhhhh._ Ties. Yes—"

"Yeah—"

" _Ties._ Yes. Yes, of course. I understand."

"You do?"

Fraser took the remaining two steps separating them, coming up to stand behind Ray. He set his hands on his shoulders, their eyes meeting in the mirror again. "You know, Ray, I'm not very good with—ties—myself," he said tentatively.

"Really?" Ray curled his fingers around the edge of the dresser to keep his hands steady. "That's—that's real interesting, Fraser."

"Yes. In fact," Fraser's voice was taking on more reassurance, "I think you will find that when it comes to—ties—you'll realize that my—experience—with them is very limited."

"Mmm. And see, I got experience but it's mostly bad. I mean, it wasn't all bad, not at the beginning but then it went bad and I didn't—what I'm saying Fraser is that I'm just not good at ties, and I mean—this isn't even my fucking tie, y'know, it's Vecchio's tie, and he tied it for me this morning because I completely fucked it up but what if—I mean, what if the tie comes undone and I got to tie it again, and I fuck up tying the knot, y'know, and then what have we got, right, just another fucked up tie—"

"Ray—"

"I mean, once you fuck up a tie it's had to fix that, y'know—"

"Ray— _Ray_. Breathe."

Ray dragged some air into his lungs and waited.

Fraser finally broke the silence, clearing his throat. "You know, Ray—actually, I find on the whole, when it comes to neckwear, I much prefer lanyards. To ties, I mean. A lanyard is—like a tie, in some respects but—well, I've always found lanyards to be very—strong. Sturdy. Very—adaptable." His hand drifted down Ray's arm to his hip. "A man's relationship with his lanyard is like a—like a _partnership_ , in a way."

"Like a duet."

"Very much, Ray. _Exactly._ During my years with the RCMP, I've found there are many ways to use a good lanyard—not to mention many types of lanyards. _Many_ types of lanyards. American and Canadian, I might add. All in all, upon reflection, I have to say that my experience with them has always been very—satisfactory."

"Satisfactory?"

"Exceptional, really." Fraser smiled.

"Yeah?" Ray felt his own face relax into the beginnings of a grin.

"Very." Fraser's fingers tightened and Ray could feel his breath quicken. "So you see, Ray, perhaps if we were to agree—just between the two of us—to think of this, this _tie_ as more of a, a lanyard instead, then perhaps your—concerns—and my—my inexperience—could be—"

"Overlooked?" Ray suggested.

"Reconciled, at the very least."

"At the very least. Okay. Right. Right. Excellent." Ray started to speak and then faltered. _Pussy._ He took a deep breath and started again. "Fraser? You do know—I mean, you know it isn't that I don't _love_ —" He faltered again.

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser asked softly.

He pressed on. "You do know that my second thoughts about the—the tie—don't have anything to do with—Jesus." He shook his head.

"It's all right, Ray—"

"No. No. I gotta say it. Don't count if you don't say it." Fraser stepped back as Ray turned; Ray took his hand, and pulled him close again, and looked him right in the eye. "Fraser, you know it isn't you, right? You know it ain't that I don't wanna be married to you? You know that, right?"

"It would be perfectly normal for you to have second—"

"No! Fraser, no—no, do not do that. No. It's not you; it's—not you." He curled his other hand around the back of Fraser's neck. "I love you. _Love_ you," he whispered, raising his mouth—

Someone banged at the bedroom door.

"Jesus Christ!" he swore. "It's like Grand fucking Central—"

Fraser laughed breathlessly, leaning his forehead into Ray's, sliding his lips down the side of Ray's face. "We could ignore them."

"Kowalski! Benny!"

"Ignore Vecchio?" Ray muttered. "Impossible. What the hell do you want!" he called back.

"We're somewhat busy, Ray." Fraser tugged Ray's tie free.

"Busy, he says." Vecchio banged on the door again. "Yeah, like I can't figure out what that means in Canadian. Look, we gonna have a wedding here or not?"

Fraser looked up from undoing the button on Ray's shirt and smiled. "Not," he called out.

"What?!" The door opened and Vecchio can through. "What the hell, Kowalski, I leave you alone for five minutes and you— Awww, Jeez," he muttered, turning away. "Could the two of you stayed dressed until after the ceremony?"

"Actually, Ray—Ray and I have decided we prefer a lanyard to a tie."

"You say what? Is that like Inuit for gay sex or something, cause I gotta tell you Benny, with the two of you that doesn't come as much of a sur—" 

"Fraser and me are gonna skip the wedding thing," Ray said. "We decided we're just gonna, uh—" He looked at Fraser.

"—to declare our mutual devotion—"

"—yeah, in front of witnesses—" 

"—in a state-sanctioned ceremony—"

"—followed by cake and champagne. And dancing," Ray concluded with a grin.

"Dancing." Vecchio looked at Ray, then at Fraser, then back at Ray again. "And this is different from a wedding how?"

Ray looked at Fraser, who looked back at him with a smile.

"Well, you see, Ray, there are red ships, and green ships…"

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, immense gratitude to greywash for beta. Like all good betas, she made this story twice as good with her thoughtful, spot-on feedback.
> 
> Also, for those who may care about reality on such matters, same-sex marriage is not yet legal in the State of Illinois (although civil partnerships are available). I have simply chosen to ignore this sad fact within the context of this story.


End file.
